


Don't Fear the Love of a Fallen Angel

by fleurofthecourt



Series: Angels Don't Get Sick [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Future Fic, Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Castiel, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurofthecourt/pseuds/fleurofthecourt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after becoming human again, Cas gets sick for the first time, and while Dean takes care of him, he still somehow manages to take care of Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First fic for the fandom/pairing. I think I was a little overzealous.

The steady patter of rain and the soft swish of the windshield wipers had allowed Dean to ignore Cas’ sniffling for the last three hundred or so miles. Thankfully, instead of choosing to breach the subject himself, Cas had curled up against the passenger side window, looking about as pitiful as a wet kitten. He hadn’t said a word practically since they’d climbed in the Impala. Neither had Dean. 

What was there to say, anyway, Dean wondered. _Hey Cas, aren’t you glad you permanently gave up your mojo for yours truly just so I could make you dig up a grave sick and concussed? I’m sure it was completely therapeutic for you_.

It wasn’t exactly a conversation starter. 

Of course, before he’d all but fainted, shovel in hand, Dean hadn’t realized Cas was coming down with something. Perhaps Cas hadn’t either. Perhaps Cas still didn’t. The poor guy had probably never been sick before. 

And Dean really wished it had stayed that way. 

Though he refused to admit it, Dean worried that this would lead Cas to realize that he was stuck with the world class mistake of choosing a human relationship over finally getting his wings back. Because, really, who the hell chose to be human when the other option involved healing and killing at a touch -- not to mention the ability to jump between Heaven and Earth in a split second. 

He couldn’t possibly be worth what Cas had given up. 

So discussing just how human Cas had become was just about at the bottom of the list of things Dean wanted to do. 

However, despite that, the protective instincts tugging at the core of his existence bested him after another fifty miles. 

He really couldn’t keep quiet after Cas had resorted to pathetically using his overcoat sleeve as Kleenex. 

“Hey Cas, you feeling okay? You’re sniffling up a storm, and it sounds like you’ve got a choir of frogs in your throat.” Dean turned towards the passenger seat and frowned at Cas’ flushed cheeks. 

“There are not any amphibians in it that I’m aware of,” Cas said, rubbing at his throat, looking perplexed. He shifted uncomfortably before loosening his tie. “The general feeling around it is less than pleasant, though. Is that normal? It doesn’t seem normal.” 

“Well unless you’ve been swallowing gravel,” Dean said, "you shouldn’t sound like that.” 

“Why would I swallow gravel?” Cas asked before clearing his throat. 

“Got me,” Dean said shrugging. “How’s the rest of you?” 

“I’m tired and sore and my head hurts,” Cas listed, tilting his head towards Dean. “Not unexpected.” 

“Getting knocked out cold by the Houdini twins will do that to you. So will trying to grave dive,” Dean said with a nod, fervently wishing that he’d realized Cas was getting sick before he’d dragged him across three state lines to take out a pair of ghosts that, despite their affinity for escape artistry, could have easily been dealt with by another team in their hunter circuit. “Still sounds like you’re coming down with a bug.” 

“You mean I’m sick?” Cas asked. “I was starting to suspect that. You know, every time I’m human, something new about your frailty surprises me. It is strange how one’s body can be damaged not only by the elements and other life but even by itself. It seems like a betrayal.” 

Dean winced at how Cas still classified humans as _you_ like he still hadn’t fully processed that he had become one and that his angel on switch was just plain gone. He clearly wasn’t happy like this. 

However, outwardly choosing to ignore Cas’ unsolicited observation on the human condition, he said, “Hey, man, it’s probably not the plague or anything, but we’ll stop at the next Gas N’ Sip and get some cold & flu stuff to fight off whatever you’ve got.” 

“I do not believe cold remedies will be particularly effective against the plague,” Cas said, blearily dropping his gaze towards the dashboard. 

Dean reached over and patted his hand against the passenger side of the bench,“Hey, Amelia Bedelia, quit talking and really try and get some shut eye, would ya?” 

“You began this conversation, and I do not know who that is,” Cas said mildly defensively, as he placed his head against the window once again, pressing his forehead against the glass. “But I can try to sleep.” 

Dean was silently thankful that Cas didn’t realize he was referencing a series of children’s books he’d recently read to Sam’s daughter. Of course, Cas probably wouldn’t think there was a reason to call him out on it in the first place. Cas wasn’t really about questioning one’s masculinity. He’d always been more interested in questions of sexuality, specifically Dean’s -- never mind his complete and utter lack of intention. 

But now that they were several kisses past there's-no-way-this-is-platonic, Dean sort of assumed he had to own up to being at least Cas-sexual. It kind of freaked him out. 

So did the fact that Cas had trusted that he was in for the whole nine yards of whatever the hell this was. 

But the idea of Cas realizing that he didn’t want any yard of it absolutely terrified him. 

He might be all in just to keep Cas from even thinking about trying to get back off the ground. 

Backing as far away from that thought as possible, because he was definitely _not_ a corny chick-flick level of in love with Cas, Dean started humming along to the soft rock station that he’d picked up just past the Illinois border. 

He tried to focus mostly on song lyrics and searching for signs of civilization, and, consequently, gas, but he still shot several concerned and certainly-not-deeply-affectionate looks at his now drowsing passenger, vaguely hoping that he had fallen asleep. 

It figured that Cas started snoring nasally about the time a gas station finally came into view. In a vain attempt not to wake him up, Dean eased into the gas station parking lot much more slowly than was warranted. But, as soon as the car rolled to a stop, Cas jolted upright. 

“Dean!” 

With almost no warning, he lunged towards the driver’s seat and threw himself protectively between Dean and the steering wheel, angel blade in hand. 

“Jesus, Cas! We’re at a gas station. I think I can handle the attendant, black-eyed or otherwise. But I’m gonna start with he’s human.” 

Cas blinked a few times, taking in his surroundings, before sinking back into the passenger seat, looking disoriented. “I see now that we are not in Purgatory.” 

“Not by a longshot,” Dean said, softening as he realized Cas had been having a nightmare -- a nightmare involving him. 

Reflexively, he leaned over Cas and brushed his hand against his forehead; Cas dazedly tracked the movement. “Better check you aren’t delirious.” 

“Is my forehead warm?” Cas asked, his eyes searching for Dean’s. Dean nodded "It’s strange. I’m very cold, and I don’t feel...right.” 

Their eyes met, and Dean felt a twinge of sympathy at the unsettlingly lost look found in Cas' gaze. 

However, recognizing that things had suddenly gotten intimate, he dropped his hand and pulled back to the driver’s side. 

"That's about how a fever works, man. Sorry," Dean said. He pulled off his jacket and set it next to Cas. "Take that. I'll get you meds. Try not to attack anyone." 

Cas folded the jacket over his lap and wrapped the sleeves around his shoulders. "If I am not provoked, I will have no reason to."

"Yeah, well, maybe don't fall back asleep 'til I'm back?" Dean said as he jumped out, not waiting for a response. 

He kept an ear out for anything unusual, but the lack of commotion from the lot suggested Cas hadn’t found any new nightmare shadows to fight.

When he got back, he found Cas staring intently at his jacket, tracing his finger over a stain. "There’s blood on this."

"And dirt and salt and who knows what else," Dean said. "My jacket needs washed. So what? Still a perfectly good duct tape excuse for a blanket. Use it and like it."

“I am using it, and I do appreciate it, Dean. It's very warm, and it’s like I have part of you to sleep with. I find that...comforting," Cas said. He looked back down at the jacket before adding, “I thought you might still be bleeding.” 

"It’s an old stain, Cas. I'm good," Dean said, taken-aback, touched, and more freaked out. He thought it best to ignore all of that. "Okay. How about these pills, huh? You know how to swallow 'em?" 

"I've had pain medication before. I assume the principle is the same," Cas said. 

"Have at it then," Dean said tossing the stuffed bag at Cas. "I'm getting gas." 

Dean leaned against the pump, listened to the slow chugging of the gas, and shut his eyes. 

He kept hoping that if he didn’t think about what had led to Cas being human, it wouldn’t have happened. 

They wouldn’t have found themselves pressed against the wall of an abandoned warehouse, leftover adrenaline fueling their every move, lips a hairsbreadth apart. 

Dean wouldn’t have the inclination to deny that he’d been the one to kiss first -- but damn if Cas’ eyes and lips hadn’t been taunting him into it for years. 

But, most importantly, the angels, dicks that they were, wouldn’t have come and told Cas to choose. 

Be an angel or be with Dean. 

What a ridiculous ultimatum. 

Cas, without a second of hesitation, chose love at the cost of immortality. 

But, damn him, it had only been one kiss. 

There had been a few afterwards, sure. But, the first kiss almost immediately becoming equivalent to an eternal sacrificial love was a lot of pressure even if you weren’t simultaneously questioning your sexuality and friendship. 

Why was Cas enough of an idiot to believe this was going to work? 

One of them was definitely going to screw it up, and Dean was betting on himself. 

Hell, he was pretty sure that in some way he already had. 

And, really, even though he’d never admit it, the last thing he would want would be for Cas to have a broken heart to match his clipped wings.


	2. Chapter 2

Like most human maladies, this one -- along with the fever, runny nose, and earache that accompanied it -- would pass, Cas knew. He’d watched such things come and go for millenia. 

Yet, never having experienced such irritations first hand, he kept hoping that Dean’s current absence from their motel room would not be long lasting. He suspected that the other man’s return would diminish his current desire to whimper into the pillows. 

It wasn’t so much about the pain -- he’d been in much worse before. It was about how he didn’t truly understand anything that was happening to him. 

His body temperature was elevated, yet he was freezing. The pressure of the mucus in his nasal cavity hurt, yet expelling it hurt almost as much as leaving it be. The drainage of that same pressure had led to one, and only one, of his ears throbbing steadily. It was all very counterintuitive. 

He wasn’t sure he’d be coping at all if Dean weren’t there with him, telling him that was just the way it was. Despite the fact that Dean didn’t realize it, his constant though, perhaps, unintentional assurances that there was nothing unusual about this particular illness comforted Cas tremendously, as did what Cas believed Sam had been referring to as his “mother hen” tendencies. 

Having been reminded of them, as he’d nodded listlessly against Dean’s cell phone a few hours earlier, he was unsurprised when Dean returned with two bags full of food, an extra blanket, and ear drops. 

“Okay, Cas, you’re in luck. This town had an Indian place right by the burger joint,” Dean said. “Ethnic and spicy. Should clear your sinuses right up.” 

Cas squinted at the bags as Dean pulled a burger and fries out of one and rice and sauce out of the other. Even factoring in his “mother hen” tendencies, this seemed beyond normal Dean behavior. “You don’t like Indian food.” 

“Yeah, but you do,” Dean said. 

“Yes, but why wouldn’t you get both of us burgers?” Cas said. “Wouldn’t it have been less trouble?” 

“What’s with the third degree?” Dean said. “Does it matter?” 

Cas had a feeling it did matter, but he couldn’t explain why so he let it drop. “No, I guess it doesn’t.” 

“Good. Well, I’m not spoon feeding this grub to you. Get over here and dig in,” Dean said waving him towards the table before throwing the blanket over the chair opposite him. 

Once they finished their dinner, and Dean had stared disparagingly at what Cas hadn’t eaten, they made their way to the bed. The only bed -- another mysterious decision on Dean’s part. 

Cas tumbled onto it and pulled himself under the covers as Dean fiddled with the DVD player. Then, with _The Fellowship of the Ring_ successfully wrangled, he moved to the edge of the bed and stood tensely on the opposite side, his eyes cast on the blue checkers of the comforter. A mixture of apprehension and doubt seemed to hold him in place. Cas didn’t understand what he was afraid of. It was just a bed. 

“I don’t believe it will bite,” Cas said. 

Dean relaxed as a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “No, I guess it won’t. Scoot over.” 

Cas did so wordlessly, and Dean sat down on top of the covers. 

“Well, before I get this rolling, let’s get these ear drops in you,” Dean said. “You have to keep your head tilted for a while, so, uh, why don’t you, uh, just put your head in ...my lap.” 

Despite the clear discomfort in Dean’s voice, Cas thought that seemed like a reasonable suggestion. “Okay.” 

He turned sideways and let his head fall against Dean’s thigh. Dean took in a deep breath before completely unnecessarily brushing hair away from Cas’ ear. “Now you’ve got to hold still. Try not to flinch.” 

“Is this going to hurt?” Cas asked, knitting his eyes and brow together as he turned up to Dean. He’d not thought about that. 

“What? No,” Dean said as though that should be obvious. He clapped his hand over Cas’ shoulder. “It’s not going to be a bowl of cherries, but come on, man, don’t chalk out on me. They’re eardrops.” 

“This, all of this,” Cas said indignantly, sweeping his hand over his body as he rose, “is new to me, Dean. That includes eardrops.” 

Dean’s facial features tightened, and he pulled back slightly with a heavy sigh. “No, Cas, they won’t hurt.” 

Cas relaxed and nodded before gripping a handful of Dean’s shirt with one hand. He still didn’t really know how this would feel, and it made him nervous. 

“Okay, on three,” Dean said. “One, two...” 

A drop of liquid went into his ear. The feeling, though not painful, was unpleasant. 

“An odd sensation,” he mumbled into Dean’s jeans. 

“And it’ll feel strange for a while,” Dean said. “But you’ve gotta keep your head like it is. Let ‘em work.” 

Cas nodded slowly. He wasn’t exactly comfortable, but he didn’t want to move. He was as close to Dean as he could get, and that was exactly where he wanted to be. 

Although Cas believed that he had been awake for the start of the film, he couldn’t remember it when he woke up a few hours later, partly curled over Dean’s knees, his neck incredibly stiff, the rest of him sore and inexplicably fatigued. Hadn’t he just slept? Being ill continued to be counterintuitive. 

He groaned as he lifted himself up, reached for the box of tissues on the bedside table, and noticed that Dean had fallen asleep sitting up in a position possibly more uncomfortable than the one he’d just found himself in. 

“Dean,” Cas said, gripping Dean’s shoulder without much thought. As his hand rested on the place where he’d left his mark long ago, he pulled back. It felt too intimate a touch for his current purposes. 

Dean mumbled something unintelligible before focusing on Cas. “Hey, Cas, you need something?” 

“You should move,” Cas said, waving emphatically downwards. 

“You want me off of here?” Dean asked, springing up instantly, suddenly wide-eyed. He pressed his fingers to his temple and sighed. “I knew this was a bad idea.” 

“You mean sharing the bed?” Cas asked, uncertain why Dean would think that. He sniffled into his tissues waiting for what he hoped would be an explanation. 

But Dean didn’t answer. He merely pressed his lips together in a way that suggested he didn’t want to. 

“Why do _you_ think this was a bad idea? Are we...is this...”moving too fast”? Cas asked. He wasn’t certain he’d completely grasped the intricacies of that particular figure of speech, but as he said it, he thought he may have truly stumbled on to what was going on. Though he wasn’t sure it was really about the bed. The bed thing seemed to be a symptom of a larger problem. 

Dean sighed and rubbed his hand down his face. “We weren’t moving, and that’s on me. So I tried to make us move... but what did I do to you, man? What could I have possibly done to make you think being with me was worth letting those dicks take your mojo?” 

“You kissed me,” Cas stated simply, thinking that was blatantly obvious. 

“Okay, so we smooched. That doesn’t make me worth this. You shouldn’t be here having me play nursemaid. You should be out there trying to get your juice back. I know they told you that it was gone for good this time, but, well, when is that ever true?” 

“But I intend to kiss you again,” Cas said pointedly. “Angels are not allowed romantic relationships with humans. Humans are. If I got my grace back, it would only be taken away again.” 

Dean stared at him, disbelief written all over his face. 

“I had a choice, Dean, and I chose. I chose you. Is that so impossible to believe?” 

There was a _yes_ on the tip of Dean’s tongue; Cas could tell. But somehow Dean choked it back. 

“Even if I do believe it, I can’t let you live like this,” Dean said. “You aren’t cut out for this, man. You aren’t. I saw how hard it was for you the first time around. I can’t make you go through it again, not for me.” 

“You didn’t make me. You’re right that this isn’t easy for me, Dean. Much of it I don’t think I will ever get used to. Runny noses,” Cas said raising his eyes as he threw a handful of tissues into the wastebasket. “But being human is different than I ever imagined. A lot of it is harder. There are things that I never knew I had taken for granted because your smaller, everyday concerns were so often beneath me, so often outside the scope of Heaven’s larger plans. I think you know that with all the things I’ve done. All the things I’ve done to you. All the things I still have to be sorry for.” 

“You think I still haven’t forgiven you after all this time?” Dean asked angrily. “Tell me right now that this isn’t why you did this. Tell me you aren’t still trying to wipe your slate clean because it’s clean. You can’t make me your excuse for putting yourself through hell on earth, Cas. It’s not fair to me, and it’s not fair to you.” 

“No, Dean. Listen to me. That isn’t why,” Cas said. “When I was human before, one of my brothers asked me how I wanted to live: as an angel or as a man. At the time, I needed to be an angel. It was the only way I could fix what I had so foolishly and unwittingly done. Yet when we managed to reopen Heaven’s gates and I returned, I felt an emptiness telling me that it wasn’t where I was meant to be or even who I was meant to be. Not anymore. I wasn’t the righteous soldier that pulled you out of Hell and misguidedly tried to right the world. I was no longer the broken angel that needed to fix Heaven; I had done what I could to repair my own damage for my brothers and sisters in Heaven. And I realized they weren’t the ones that really mattered to me. Then I realized what I _was_ meant to be. What I wanted to be.” 

“And what are you meant to be, Cas?” Dean asked wearily, running his fingers over a closed eyelid before reaching his hand out towards Cas. 

“A Winchester,” Cas said. 

“I was afraid you were going to say something stupid like that,” Dean said, shaking his head. “You don’t want that. Why would you possibly want that?” 

“Because, Dean, you’re my family,” Cas said. “You have been for a long time. And not only that. I have an incomprehensibly strong feeling for you. I’m not certain I’ve mastered the emotion; It’s more unbalancing and confusing than most, but I believe what I feel for you is love.” 

“That’d be your fever talking,” Dean said, clearly trying to brush him off. “All of this is your fever talking.” 

“You know that it isn’t,” Cas said, fixing Dean with an intense stare, daring him to believe the truth. 

He watched as a single tear fell from Dean’s right eye and trickled down his cheek. As Cas reached forward to press his finger to it, Dean leaned forward and pulled him into a hug. Momentarily startled, Cas flailed his arms before securing them around Dean’s torso. 

Dean rested his head on Cas’ shoulder and quietly said, “I know.” 

They stayed like that, silently drowsing against each other, letting their affection drift over each other. 

After a time, Dean pulled back abruptly and asked, “Cas, why did you want me to move?” 

“I had thought you would be more comfortable lying down,” Cas said hoarsely, his voice having all but disappeared somewhere in the middle of his speeches. “Now don’t ask anymore questions. My throat feels much worse than before. I don’t believe it was designed for this much speaking.” 

“I’ll get you some water,” Dean said squeezing his shoulder lightly as he got off the bed. 

Cas nodded gratefully; water sounded wonderful. 

Dean handed him the glass then looked at him with some concern. “How’s your ear feel?” 

Cas shot him a look over the rim of the glass. Even if he wanted to talk, he couldn’t. 

“Right, sorry,” Dean said. “Well, if you feel worse or anything, wake me up. But let’s catch some Zs before one of us tries to pour more of their guts out.” 

Dean was already asleep when Cas set the drained glass on the bedside table. He pressed his head into Dean’s shoulder and let his breathing ease him into a peaceful sleep. 

A soft kiss to his forehead pulled Cas into a semi-consciousness the next morning, and he heard an almost inaudible whisper he wasn’t sure he was meant to hear. “I love you.” 

Then as Cas blinked awake, Dean rubbed his thumb over his lips. “I’m going to get sick because of you.” 

“Most likely,” Cas said. “But I believe I’ve learned how to take care of you.” 

Dean snorted. 

“And I will,” Cas said, giving Dean a hardened stare. He meant it about more than merely this illness. 

“Is that a threat?” Dean asked, raising his eyes with amused skepticism. 

“If it needs to be,” Cas said. 

He may not be a soldier of Heaven anymore, but he thought he would always have one very special mission, that of guarding Dean against his worst demon: himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wrote this before I even speculated on what was going to happen in the season 9 finale. 
> 
> Now, having watched it, I'm regretting that last line a little. It could be so much more literal than what I actually meant.

**Author's Note:**

> [catalogercas](http://catalogercas.tumblr.com)


End file.
